Page 75 of Playing Dirty
I leaned back against the truck’s cab, arms crossed, trying to play it cool. “All the poker chips in Vegas couldn’t buy what you just gave me.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, soft and shining. “What’s that?”
“A chance,” I said simply. “And don’t go thinking I don’t know it.”
She stepped into me, slipping her left hand—ourhand now—against my chest. The ring glinted like proof that I’d finally found a way to stop running the tables and bet on something real.
And damn if it didn’t feel like the sweetest win of my life.
“Come on,” she murmured, tugging me toward the side door.
Normally, I was the one dragging her into trouble. Now, she was leading, and I followed without a fight. Hell, I’d follow her anywhere.
I’d walked through that door many times, but always with one ear cocked to the sound of another man’s lies, always ready to face off if things went south. But entering the house felt different this time. Tonight, it was quiet. Safe. Hers. Ours.
I looked down at her again, couldn’t help it. The diamond caught the light like it was proud to be there. Couldn’t blame it—I’d been proud to stand between her and every damn thing that tried to hurt her. And I’d keep doing it, from here to forever. That wasn’t a promise I had to say out loud. It was carved into me.
Protecting Callie had become second nature, like breathing, and I wasn’t about to quit now just because she wore my ring. If anything, it meant I had even more to fight for.
“You keep staring at me like that, Rhett Callahan, and I’m gonna start wondering if you proposed just so you could ogle me all night.”
I squeezed her hand, pulling her closer. “Darlin’, I’ve been ogling you since the day I swore I’d keep you safe. The ring’s just proof I plan on doing both for the rest of my life.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed soft, sweet, like she knew I meant every word.
The couch had never looked so damn inviting. Tonight, it wasn’t about cushions or comfort—it was about the woman who tugged me down beside her like I belonged there.
We sank into the cushions, still hand in hand, though she let her head fall against my shoulder like she needed to test if this thing was real. I shifted just enough to wrap my arm around her, pulling her in tight.
For a minute, neither of us said a word. The quiet pressed in, not heavy but… settled. Like the whole house exhaled now that it was ours, not haunted by secrets or someone else’s shadow.
“You ever think we’d make it here?” she asked softly.
I huffed out a laugh. “Hell no. I figured you’d keep shooting me down until I died of frustration.”
That earned me the sweetest little smile against my shirt. “I know, I didn’t make it easy.”
“Sweetheart, I didn’t care. I was trying to save you from hurt and embarrassment.”
Her breath hitched—just the faintest sound—but I felt it, the same way I’d felt every time she’d been hurting and tried to hide it. I tilted her chin until she was looking at me.
“I know I’ve been a cocky bastard, Callie. But through all of it—every game, every smart-mouthed word—protecting you was the only thing that ever mattered. I didn’t always get it right, but I never once let go of that. And I never will.”
Her eyes shimmered, and damn if that didn’t gut me harder than any punch I’d ever taken. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Callie,” I said, brushing my thumb across her cheek, “I’ve been your shield longer than I’ve been your man. But now I get to be both. And that’s the best hand I’ve ever been dealt.”
She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into my touch. “You and your card metaphors.”
“Get used to ’em. You’re marrying a gambler, remember?”
Her fingers toyed with the ring again, the diamond winking in the lamplight. She didn’t have to say it, but I knew—she was replaying every moment that got us here.
Every risk.
Every damn close call.
I kissed her then, slow and sure, sealing the vow I’d already made. She tasted like forever.
